


Redemption Collection

by 60secondstopain



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Fatherly Love, Fluff, Ghost Arthur Morgan, Imagines, Knight Arthur, Love, Open requests, Romance, Short Stories, Smut, Werewolf Arthur Morgan, one shots, the curious couple and their unruly kids, want anything then let me know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23123041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60secondstopain/pseuds/60secondstopain
Summary: A collection of imagines, one shots and short stories around the beautiful characters of the van der linde gang.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/OC, Dutch van der Linde/OC, Hosea matthews/Oc, John Marston/OC, arthur morgan/original characters, dutch van der line/original character, hosea matthes/original character, john marston/original characters
Kudos: 14





	1. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya lives with a ghost. She doesn't mind the ghost. But it would be great if he would keep it down sometimes.

Its three in the morning. And the banging in the attic had yet to die down.

This was the routine that I had fallen into. I would climb into bed at eleven, after a day of putting my pencils and paints back in their proper places. Finding them in a new place each day – _not by my hand_. Leaving a tin of beans out on the kitchen side during dinner. Then throwing it away once I finished my own food and saw that the tin was emptied.

The noises in the attic would begin around midnight. Footsteps, boxes being shifted around and there was even a gun shot one night. That one had made me fly ten feet in the air and kept me from sleeping the entire night.

About half three in the morning the noises would cease, and I would finally be able to get what little sleep I could.

Six months of this. Six whole months and not once had the noises began in my bathroom.

I shot up as the door to the bathroom slammed open. My hand gripped onto my bedsheets as I held them close to my chest. My heart pounding in ears as I kept my sight trained on the bathroom door.

There was footsteps that entered the bathroom. Some of the bottles of soap on the counter of the sink fell to floor. The tap began to run. Splashes as though someone was washing their hands. Then it cut off again.

It was safe to assume I didn’t get much sleep.

—-

It was the following week when I had felt the fingers through my hair. I had fallen asleep in my chair in the living room. I hadn’t slept much the previous night due to the noises coming from my bathroom – my shampoo had been thrown across the room in a fit of rage, it seems.

But I was brought to that place between dreams and the conscious world when my hair was pulled back from my forehead. It was gentle. As though the owner of the hand wanted to see my face more clearly.

I don’t have much hair – having it been cut short to a pixie style during the summer. But the short locks that the fingers glided through caused me stir awake and groggily look around myself. Half opened eyelids and a yawn, I was greeted with the view of my living room being vacant besides myself.

I rub my right eye as I lean my head back into my chair.

“Trying to sleep here.” I grumble as I settle back into a comfortable position in the armchair and close my eyes. After a few moments pass, I feel myself start to doze off.

The fingers return to playing with my hair.

—-

I was painting the next time I felt someone touch me. I had been in my studio all morning and worked on my piece. A landscape of the heartlands. A stag and doe stood in the centre as the sun was setting.

I was about to put the paint brush back onto the canvas when a hand enclosed around my own. My eyes widened as I gasped at the cool touch. I could feel their fingers slide in between my own. But visibly there was nothing holding my hand back.

“Do you like it?” I found myself asking the empty space that held my hand.

The studio fell silent again.

The hand gave a small squeeze to my own hand before it disappeared again. A smile crept its way onto my face at the thought of this person enjoying my work. I put my paintbrush down and admire my work.

The fingers ran through my hair again.

—-

I found the tin of beans had been left alone one night. I had taken my time eating my noodles to give them enough time to enjoy their beans. But the tin sat untouched on the kitchen counter.

I frowned as I picked up the tin and looked at the beans inside. Quickly glancing around myself, I put the tin back down.

_Why hadn’t they eaten today?_

I washed up my bowl and cutlery and left the tin on the side for the rest of the night.

The noises in the attic were much louder that night too. Another gunshot and what sounded like someone collapsing.

My bathroom light was turned on as well. Letting me see the shampoo that had been thrown onto the floor.

I think they’re a little angry.

—-

_“Miss?”_

I jumped out of my seat in front of the canvas. Turning to try and find the source of the voice. The room was empty, but there was a cool breeze that brushed my neck. As though someone was breathing on it.

I held my paintbrush up as I turned back to my canvas.

“Don’t do that!” I whine. My heart was still thundering in my ears as the chuckle echoed through the studio.

I decided to put my earphones in then. I didn’t think I could handle the fact that my invisible friend could now talk to me. A few minutes past and my playlist shuffled through a couple songs. Then my hair is being played with again as I brush the paint through the landscape.

I had grown accustomed to them playing with my hair. They continued to run their fingers through my short locks as I finished up my painting.

—-

I had a guy over on Friday night. We were having dinner together and I was happy when there were no noises or mysterious touches. Things were quick to become heated between us and we were soon moving to my bedroom.

I was happily under him as he was giving my neck sweet kisses when I opened my eyes and looked in the corner. I gasped when I saw the outline of a man stood there. The most visible thing about him was his blue crystal eyes. He was staring at me as though I had wounded him.

I quickly pushed George off me and looked back at him.

“You okay?” He asks me with a small smile. I looked back to the corner and saw that the silhouette was gone. George looked his shoulder to the corner. His eyes came back to mine and his brow was pulled together in confusion.

“It’s nothing.” I huff and pull him back down to me.

The noises in the attic that night didn’t cease at all. George ended up leaving and saying not to call him again.

—-

To say I was angry was an understatement.

_I was livid._

My studio had been trashed. My canvas’ had been thrown about in loose abandonment. My paints were ruined, and most had been spilled onto the carpet.

I run my hand through my hair and grip onto the back of my head. Taking deep breaths to try and calm myself down, I found myself crying.

“Why?” I ask out loud. I don’t lower my hands from my head as a hand cups my cheek. A brush of a thumb wipes my tears off my cheeks. I look up in front of me and I’m met with the same crystal eyes from Friday night.

I take a step back and lower my arms.

_He was right in front of me_.

His sandy hair hung over his forehead as he stared down at me. His brow frowned and his lips pressed into a thin line. Broad shoulders covered with a blue shirt, a belt holding up worn-out jeans and a gun in the holster. He wore black boots – that would explain the loud footsteps.

“So, you’re to blame here.” I frown at him.

He reaches out to me again, but I move away from his touch. He frowns when I move out of his reach. He pulls his hand back and looks down at the floor.

“Sorry.” Then he was gone again.

—-

The next couple of days, the noises in the attic had ceased all together. Not a sound was made, and I didn’t feel his touch either. It was odd. I found myself almost missing the reason for staying awake most the night and having the cool fingers in my hair.

I came home from work to find a flower on the kitchen counter one afternoon. It was a lily. My favourite flower. _How did he know?_ The lily soon found a place on the windowsill in a glass of water.

I guess this was his way of apologising to me. I smile at the flower. Then there was a cool hand on the lower part of my back. I gasp at the sudden action but quickly relax.

“Thank you.” I mutter into the empty space besides me. There’s a small breeze of air by my ear before a kiss is pressed to the side of my head. My breath hitched in my throat.

It was one thing to feel him touch me with his hand. But it was new sensation entirely to feel his lips against my skin.

—-

We fell back into our routine after that day. It felt normal again. As strange as that can sound. Having my haunted guest around my home again was bringing back with it the feeling of contentment.

I have grown so attached to having him around me, that when he was gone I felt cold. I don’t know whether this was a good thing or absolutely insane.

I even started eating dinner in the kitchen now. It was fascinating watching the beans being eaten by an invisible force. The spoon would float in mid-air for a moment. Then it would pick up some of the beans. Then the beans would disappear further up in the air.

When I had shook myself from staring at this action, there was a chuckle that echoed in the room. It was deep but joyous. I smile as I cut up my chicken.

“Glad I amuse you.” I speak before eating a fork full of pasta.

We continued to eat for a few minutes in silence. I sat reading through one of my new books too. A story about a young woman living in a haunted mansion – _irony is bitch_.

“What’s ya name?” I look up at the empty space as the spoon floated. I smile and look back down at my book.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I reply and eat more pasta. “I’ll tell you if you tell me yours.” I offer a proposition. When the response is the spoon being placed back onto the counter, I look up to see his eyes.

“Arthur.” It was strange seeing him as he spoke to me. He was smirking too – _the bastard_.

“Freya.” I reply with a smile.

_Yes. It is totally insane that I live with a ghost called Arthur._


	2. Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is a werewolf and Freya is the only one that knows. They share a full moon together.

The camp seemed louder this afternoon. Susan’s yells of the order of the chores seemed like screeches. The Reverend’s drunken songs sounded even more dreadful and teeth clenching.

Arthur was in a foul mood the moment his body had regained consciousness. He kept his head low with his hat covering his eyes as he sat alone in his tent. His shoulders were tensed, and his hands tightened into fists. Resting his elbows against his knees, he tried to regain his calm state from only six hours before.

But the Reverend kept belting out songs and Miss Grimshaw kept shouting.

He knew that today of all days wasn’t a great one for him to be in camp. It seemed fate wasn’t on his side neither. Seeming as he had been Dutch’s handy man of the camp. Always at his beck and call. He was surprised he hadn’t been summoned to do something for him again today. _The night is still young_ , he thought bitterly.

“Jack!” Arthur’s head rose. The source of his curiosity being the giggles of a young boy and a woman. Their joy was almost contagious as it seeped across the camp and pulling Arthur under its trance. He pushed his hat up to have a better view of the pair across camp.

Jack held onto a stick as he chased after the young woman. Her brown hair streaming behind her, caught in the spring breeze. Her cheeks tainted ruby and her lips pulled into a smile. Her face was radiant, and Arthur felt the noise of the camp lull into silence. The only sound he focused on was her angelic laughter.

She had become a beacon to pull him out of the dark depths he drowned in. She had joined them years ago, there or maybe four. But Arthur was drawn to her. His chest would feel heavy if he didn’t see her or hear her voice. This feeling pushed him to grow close to the woman. Sharing everything and anything that she wanted to know. He taught her to shoot a gun and he wouldn’t forget her flustered state when he stood behind her to perfect her stance and aim.

There was the day they spent in Valentine getting supplies. They were both enjoying the afternoon together. Arthur had been at her side at all times; being attentive and helpful carrying most of the supplies to the wagon. She was gracing him with her beautiful smile the entire day.

Then they were in the saloon enjoying a conversation. A man approached her and assumed she was a working girl. The moment his hand touched her arm, Arthur saw red and proceeded to shatter the man’s nose and his collarbone. They were quick to return to camp and not bring the matter up again.

“Jack, it’s time for food!” Abigail called to her son. The young boy then halted his game with the young woman and called back:

“Coming!” He then hugged the young woman before the pair departed. Arthur’s gaze followed the young woman as the short lived joy was coming to an end.

She walked over to where his horse, Walker, was hitched on the edge of camp. She greeted the horse with a smile and stroked down his nose. Her hand reached into her satchel and emerged with a sugar cube to feed him.

“You don’t need to fuss over him, Miss Miller.” Arthur speaks to announce his presence. Miss Miller turns her head to Arthur and smiles. A small flutter in her chest as she looks up into his cool ocean eyes.

“It’s no bother, Mr Morgan.” She replies and continue to stroke Walker. “Besides, he is my favourite.” The statement brought a smile on Arthur’s face.

“Care to take a ride with me?” Arthur offers as he moves to check the saddle on Walker.

“I would love to.” Miss Miller replies. She joins Arthur as he mounts Walker and then offers his arm down to her. He hoists her up and she soon wraps her arms around his midsection.

They ride through the Heartlands, enjoying the breeze and one another’s company. Arthur sharing more stories of his youth and Miss Miller laughing and smiling in return. Arthur was more than happy with how her hands held onto his blue shirt and her cheek rested on his shoulder blades. Walker cam to a halt and the pair watched the sun disappearing behind the mountains. The sky turning navy and the stars beginning to glisten. The moon pale and full as it looked down on them.

“I don’t think we’ll make it back to camp.” Arthur speaks as he dismounts Walker. He looks up to Miss Miller and offers his arms for her to climb down. “I should’ve thought about how far we’d go.” He rubs the back of his neck as the familiar itch begins.

“I guess I better set up whilst you find us some firewood.” Miss Miller says and begins removing the bed rolls from the saddle.

“ _Freya_.” She pauses as Arthur says her name. His voice was gruff and deeper than his usual southern charm. She turns to him to see that he was already building up a sweat.

One thing only she knew about Arthur was his _secret_. A _secret_ he had since he was a boy. Something she had found out by _mistake_.

“You need to go into the woods.” Freya tells Arthur as she moves forward to remove his hat and satchel. Her hands feeling the already raising heat from his skin. Arthur had no issue with tearing his shirt from his body and kicking his boots off. He gave Freya one last fleeting look before sprinting off into the trees.

Freya released a breath as she picked up Arthur’s discarded clothing from the grass and walked back over to where she was setting up a small camp. She quickly took one of the bed rolls from the ground and returned it to it place on Walker.

Once out of sight of Freya, the calm nature of Arthur vanished, and he was left scowling. His body felt a blaze, his bones ached, and his head was pounding. The need to be freed was raging in him.

His body shook violently. He threw himself forward, leaving behind torn clothing and the aches and the flames.

Freya was busying herself with finishing up the camp when Walker whined from his position. She looked up at the horse and rose from her crouch to calm him. She stopped short at the howl that ripped through the night sky.

Freya knew what that signalled. She calmed Walker and fed him another sugar cube before moving to find sticks and other bits to create a small fire.

Once that had been set up and the fire was lit, she sat on her bedroll and waited. Like so many previous nights she waited. Patiently and quietly watching the flames dance around on the wood before her.

Her head shot up at the sound of a huff that didn’t belong to Walker. Turning her head towards the treeline, she watched as the large figure emerged from the shadows. The sandy fur covering its frame looked beautiful under the fire’s light. The same ocean eyes she would find herself in, now belonged to the beast.

The wolf stood tall as it watched Freya for a moment. She knew what he was doing, and she stood up to confront him. Walking closer to him, the wolf let out a warning growl. She didn’t slow or falter in her steps as she continued towards him. She looked up at him as she came to a halt a few feet away from him.

The wolf huffed again as it bowed it head down. An expecting look flashed in his eyes as he looked at Freya. She reached her hand out and he moved towards her. Freya’s hand came into contact with his soft pelt and she smiled. She felt her way up his head and scratched behind his left ear. This earnt a low rumble from the wolf and Freya continued the movement.

“Hello Arthur.” She greets him as her hand ceases its action and falls back to her side – much to Arthur’s small whine at the loss of contact. She walks back over to the camp and has to calm Walker again when Arthur approaches. The poor horse frightened by the enormous beast. Freya unhitched him from the tree and let him run off along the grass. He didn’t go far, and the pair knew he’d return in the morning.

“He doesn’t like you tonight.” Freya chuckles as she looks to Arthur. His large structure standing closer to her now, she could feel the heat radiating from his fur. Arthur also took notice how she had put his satchel over her shoulders, and it rested on her hip. He leans down and bites it gently. Tugging at it and causing Freya to be pulled slightly forward with it. She raises an eyebrow at his actions until he lets go. She opens the satchel and looks inside it. Nothing unusual. His journal, a few provisions, a tonic or two. _Wait. Is that silver?_ Freya thinks to herself.

“You carry silver on you?” She asks as she looks up at Arthur. He dips his head down and sniffs at the satchel. Freya pulls it away from him and takes it from around her shoulders. She walks to the other side of the small camp and lays it down on the ground. She couldn’t understand why he would be carrying silver around with him. They had already discovered that it would wound him beyond pain when it came into contact with him. So, for him to be carrying it around in his satchel was strange and confusing.

Arthur walks up to Freya and nudges his nose against her back. She turns around and watches him lower down to rest on the ground beside her. He waited for her to come out of her thoughts and realise what he was asking.

“Just this once.” She smiles as she mounts his back and grips onto his fur. “And don’t drop me this time.” This earns a huff from Arthur as he stands back on his legs again. Freya makes sure that her grip is tight and secure before Arthur bounds off through the grass.

Arthur didn’t run like this often. But when he did, it was the most freeing thing he did. Being out in the open and being able to be what he is and not having to worry about what was happening back at camp. Or having to hide himself. He could be himself out here. _With her_.

Freya giggled and smiled as the wind passed her face and her hair flew behind her. She had only felt this once before and it ended up with Arthur nearly dropping her as he went too fast. But tonight, as she held onto him and he raced through the Heartlands, she felt at peace. Happy to be sharing this moment _with him_.

Arthur slowed as they came to the streams. It was late and they didn’t need to worry about any travellers coming by. He lowered to let Freya onto her own two feet again. She wobbled slightly and Arthur was there to help keep her balance. She smiled and scratched his ear in thanks.

Freya looked towards the water. It was magnificent. The moon and stars reflecting off the ripples as it flowed past. The quiet air around it felt mesmerizing. She threw a look over her shoulder to Arthur before she lifted her blouse over her head. Arthur looked away as she stripped down to her birthday suit and then turned to see her running towards the water. Freya squealed in delight as she jumped into the air. She disappeared under the streams for a second or two before her head surfaced from the water. She wiped the water out of her eyes and turned to look back at Arthur.

“Come on! It’s lovely in here.” She calls over to him. Arthur stands there for a moment before she notices his tail wag behind him excitedly. He runs at the water and leaps into the pool a bit away from her. She is still splashed with the explosion of water as he disappears into the stream. Freya waits for him to surface and is surprised when Arthur’s human body comes out for air. He shakes his head and wipes his eyes as a smile plays on his lips.

“You’re right. It’s beautiful in here.” He tells her and swims closer to her small frame. She made sure to stay with only her shoulders above the water line, keeping her modesty about her and hiding her naked frame under the starry water.

“Feeling better?” She asks as Arthur wipes his hair off his face.

“Much.” He responds and smiles at her.

They share a small silence.

“I have a confession to make, Miss Miller.” Arthur speaks up and Freya raises an eyebrow at him.

“And what would that be Mr Morgan?” She asks as he swims closer to her. He towered over her and she tilted her head back to keep looking into his sapphire eyes. Arthur inhaled a deep breath as his left hand came to cup Freya’s cheek. Her cheeks flushed ruby again at his touch as she stills in the water.

“I think you’re quite beautiful.” He whispers as his eyes trail down her face to her lips. “And I wouldn’t forgive myself if something was to happen to you.”

This quiet confession made Freya’s heart perk up. Arthur could hear it pounding in her chest and smiled.

“I carry the silver in case I ever lose control.” He admits in a low tone. His smile fading into a frown. “If I’m to ever lose control, I want you to use it.” At this Freya opens her mouth to object but Arthur beats her to it. “Please.” He begs. His eyes coming back up to meet hers. Concern and worry was lingering in her own. But Arthur’s were loving. “I couldn’t live if I hurt you.”

Freya reached up and placed her hand over Arthur’s that rested on her cheek. She didn’t say anything as she looked up at the man that she knew for certain that she was falling for. She knew that he would never hurt her, and she wanted to voice this, but words didn’t seem to be the answer. She tiptoed on the streams floor and her body rose out of the water more. Their bare chests pressed together, Freya lent up and gently kissed Arthur.

He instantly melted into the kiss. Their lips moving together in sync and their want and passion growing with each kiss. Arthur slid his arms down to encircle her waist and lift her up. Pulling her flush against him whilst her arms go around his neck. Her fingers tangling in his hair. A small groan rumbles through Arthur as he holds Freya to him. A part of him being thrilled that this was happening. He was finally holding her as he had always wanted since she first arrived. But it wasn’t enough to sedate the primal lust that was growing as Freya’s tongue brushed against his own.

The pair pull away for air. Resting their foreheads together and eyes closed in bliss. Freya was the first to open her eyes. She saw how Arthur was in a small trance and began to leave a trail of kisses down her throat. Tilting her head back, she allowed him to shower her with his affection. Arthur paused as he came to rest his head against her shoulder. He couldn’t keep going. Not without hearing from her what she wanted. He wouldn’t force this on her. Not unless she wanted it.

“ _Freya_.” His voice was low again. Just as it was before he ran to shift in the woods. Freya ran her fingers through his hair and waited for him to say something. Let her know that she wasn’t imaging all of this.

“ _I love you_.”

Freya felt her heart swell. The three words she had never thought would come out of his mouth. He bared them out to her like this. His voice full of longing and his hold never faltering around her. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“ _I love you too_.” She smiled into his hair. Her grip tightened around him as Arthur swam towards the shore with her around him. He placed her down on her two feet. Looking down at her and pressing one more kiss to her lips before moving back from her. He bent down as he began to shift, and Freya was mesmerised by him. His body effortlessly transformed into the large wolf. He looked down at her and then lay down. Freya quickly gathered her clothes before mounting Arthur.

He took off back to camp. The fire was still a blaze and the bed roll was untouched. Freya climbed down from him and moved to put her clothes next to his on the ground near the fire. When she turned back, Arthur was standing there back in human form. He strode towards her and captured her lips in a kiss once again as he held on her face and hip. Freya’s hands went to his shoulders, holding onto him. Fear that at any moment he would disappear.

Again, they pulled away for air. Arthur felt different though. Something in him was urging him to take her where they stood. Make her his. But he couldn’t. It was too soon for that. He would wait and they would work on this. _Together_.

“I’m guessing my bedroll is with Walker?” He chuckles when he notices only one bedroll on the ground. Freya flushed cheeks burn a little brighter as she catches her breath.

“I didn’t realise you’d shift back.” She admits as she runs a hand through his damp hair. Their naked bodies still pressed against one another. The heat from the fire didn’t compare to the warmth of Arthur.

“Then I guess you’re sleeping with the wolves tonight.” They share a small laugh at Arthur’s words. He kisses her once more. Slow, passionate and careful. Before he steps back and shifts. Freya turns and picks up Arthur’s blue shirt and puts it over her naked form. Arthur lets out a small howl and Freya giggles.

They both move over to the bedroll on the ground. Arthur lays next to it and waits for Freya. She sits on the bedroll and then rests against Arthur. Earning a small rumble from the wolf as she leans into his warmth. Pulling the small blanket over her legs and then settling back into Arthur.

Her hand brushes through his pelt once more and he turns his head towards her and rests it in her lap. They stay like this as the fire flickers and pops into the sky. Slowly they drift off together into a peaceful slumber.


	3. One of a Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a requested one shot from my tumblr - capser's arthur morgan imagines. 
> 
> Someone has been hunting down other gangs. The van der linde gang grow worried they’ll run into this threat soon. Whilst out around the area of Rhodes, Dutch and Arthur encounter the creature responsible.

The saloon was bustling with life. A man sat at the piano playing upbeat tunes that merry, drunken men sang along to. The bartender kept busy with serving the crowd in the building. Working ladies appeasing to some of the lonely gentlemen in the bar and disappearing with them up the stairs. Arthur and Dutch sat among the merry men and women. Both enjoying a drink and a laugh at the fools around them.

“I tell you son, these in-bred lot are something else.” Dutch chuckles before downing his glass of whiskey. Arthur chuckles in response and finishes his drink too.

The pair stand to leave the saloon, calling it a night to head back to camp. Neither man noticing the gaze that followed them as they left. A swig from the bottle and then its slammed back to the table as the figure stands and leaves the saloon out the back.

“Can’t wait to hear the nagging Miss O’Shea is going to give me this time.” Dutch grunts as he mounts onto the Count. Arthur chuckles as he mounts Walker, tapping his neck before they began the ride home.

“I’m sure half the camp is wondering that one, Dutch.” Arthur grins. Earning a side glare from the older gentleman.

They’re ride was smooth and quiet. The night sky full of stars and the full moon. All acting as their light on the road, leading them back home. With all the worries and stresses that had been going around the camp, the pair had enjoyed one evening drinking.

“Hey! Stop right there!” From the treeline appears four men in dirtied uniform. The stink alone from them made Arthur and Dutch pull their horses to a halt to avoid getting closer to them. The four men pointed their guns at the pair as they created a circle around them. _Lemoyne Raiders_.

“Now gentlemen, I’m sure we can make an agreement here.” Dutch begins. Raising a hand up to try and calm the situation. Arthur kept a keen eye on the two men beside him and in front of him. They were outnumbered by two and would have to think of something quick to get out of this.

“Which one of you have been killing our men?!” The man who spoke before shouted. His gun switching between Arthur and Dutch. The two men give one another a look of confusion. So there was something else hunting down gangs. But it certainly wasn’t them.

“Gentlemen there seems to a case of mistaken identity here.” Dutch chuckles as he looks at the man who spoke. “We are simply two friends enjoying the country-“

“Boss! Something is moving back here!” The man behind Dutch hollers as he turned to the treeline. A wave of panic seems to pass through the four men that surrounded Arthur and Dutch. Their horses were spooked by whatever the man claimed to be between the trees. Arthur patted Walked on the neck, trying to calm him down before he was bucked off.

“It’s the beast!” The man yells from behind Dutch. It is followed by a scream as a black figure dragged him into the shadows. This time Walker does buck Arthur off his back. Causing the man to crash to the mud with a grunt.

The remaining three men were firing round after round into the trees. Trying to save their friend from whatever had him in its clutches. When they stopped to reload, it was silent. Dutch had dropped from the Count to help Arthur to his feet.

A growl tore through the air. All three men tensing and freezing in their place. Arthur and Dutch turned to look at the tree line.

There within the branches were two molten eyes. Burning into the three men that were now scared shitless. Another growl – or was it a roar – came from the creature. The three remaining Raiders started running. Dutch and Arthur still frozen in their place as the beast emerged from the shadows.

The colossal beast was stood on its hind legs. Black fur covered its frame, some standing on end along it’s back and arms. Three thick lines ran down its face, crossing from the right side, over its nose and to its mouth. The mouth parted, baring its teeth in a snarl. It leant down onto all fours, growling in warning as Dutch reached for his revolver. He quickly raised his hands in surrender. The beast turned its head in the direction the Raiders had darted away. A small huff of a satisfaction came from it before turning its eyes back to the two men in front of it.

The beast howled. Tilting its head towards the sky and arching its body. Arthur and Dutch stumbled backwards from the shock it sent through them. Then when the howl started to die down, their eyes widened as the beast before them began to slowly shift. Like smoke had surrounded the beast, entangling itself around its frame and shifting its bones into a new alinement. The creature shrunk half a foot in size, still towering over the two men. Its claws retracted to hands; its snort pulled back into a human face. The black fur reseeded itself behind the flesh of the man. Until it all stopped and before Arthur and Dutch stood a man.

The man stood bare before them. If they hadn’t have just seen this man change from a beast to man before their very eyes, they would’ve averted their eyes from his naked form.

“Relax. I can smell the fear dripping from you.” The man gave a deep chuckle. He slowly retreated to the trees, bending down to pick up trousers from the ground.

“The name’s Miller.” The man introduces himself as he steps into the trousers. “Logan Miller.” He gives a pleasant smile to the two dumb struck men. Dutch is the first to come out of their confused haze, trying to get a grip on what he had saw.

“Dutch van der linde.” He speaks, still keeping a close eye on Logan. “Mind giving an explanation, son?” Logan laughs at his words as he pulls a brown shirt over his shoulders.

“Gladly. Just don’t call me son again.” Logan chuckles and buttons up his shirt. Arthur was now coming out of his haze as well. He stood on the defensive, knowing he still probably couldn’t take on the man.

“Ever hear stories as child about the men who howl at the moon?” Logan asks as he slips on his boots. Dutch and Arthur look at one another again.

“Literature. Fiction.” Dutch responds.

“But very much real.” Logan sighs as he walks closer to the men. Logan was taller than Dutch and Arthur. The scars that lined his face were prominent and jiggered. His dark hair hung over his forehead and his sapphires were warm and welcoming. A complete contrast to the seven foot monster he just was.

“You the one that been hunting and killing folk?” Arthur speaks up. His voice wavered but didn’t crack with the unsettling fear that pooled in his stomach. Logan’s smile disappears and a frown takes its place.

“Only those who killed my kind. Or those who seem to think its okay with hurting innocent people.” He explains and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

“There’s more of you then?” Dutch inquires with a raised eyebrow. Logan shakes his head and a sadness washes over his features as he looks to the moon.

“I’m the last of my kind.” He mutters then looks back to Arthur and Dutch. “My pack was wiped out years ago by hunters. I haven’t come across any of my kind since.”

The air was solemn then. Arthur and Dutch at a lost for words whilst Logan watched their reactions.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dutch nods his condolences with his words. Logan smiles and then his attention is drawn to the approaching woman on a horse behind the two men. Dutch and Arthur turn to see Sadie riding up to them with a rifle at the ready.

“You men okay? Heard the gunshots from camp.” Sadie says as she comes to a halt.

“Perfectly well, Miss Adler.” Dutch assures her and then gestures to the man beside him. “This young man saved our lives.”

Logan had been fixated on Sadie as soon as he saw her coming. A heavy feeling in his chest and a gravity pulling him towards her. Sadie climbed down from her horse and closed the distance to join by Arthur’s side.

“Logan?” Arthur and Dutch both snap their heads towards Sadie as she recognises the man before her.

“Miss Adler.” Logan smiles down at the woman. Arthur and Dutch share a look of confusion once again.

“Wait a damned minute.” Arthur speaks up. “You know each other?” He points between Sadie and Logan – who had suddenly become a bashful idiot under the gaze of the woman.

“Yeah. He saved my life when I was a kid.” Sadie replies and smiles fondly at the memory of the wolf that had saved her from a gang that terrorised her family. Logan seems to remember too as he looks down at his boots and scratches the back of his neck. “What are you going out this way? Thought you preferred the grizzles?”

“Followed a familiar scent out this way.” Logan replies and then points to the two dumbstruck men. “Led me to these two. I was quite disheartened when it wasn’t you.”

“Son,” Dutch clears his throat when Logan turns his attention to him. “If I might be so forward, would you care to join us back to camp? Maybe you and Miss Adler can make up for lost time.” Logan smiles at the offer and looks back at Sadie.

“Happily.” He replies and follows them to their horses.

***

It was easy say that Logan didn’t leave the gang after that night. Having found a pack that he could protect again made him feel whole once more. No longer lonely with the fact he was the last of his kind.

The camp was also very welcoming to him. A few of the women – Karen and Mary-Beth – swooned over him.

“Who wouldn’t swoon over that beast of a man.” Karen had said one morning whilst sat with the other ladies mending clothes. Watching a shirtless Logan chopping wood as though he was slicing butter.

Sadie and Logan were very much attached at the hip. Logan following her anywhere that she would go. A lost puppy following its new owner, as Arthur had put it.

The camp were especially pleased when Logan had revealed that Micah had ratted them out to the Pinkertons. Logan never liked Micah from the moment he stepped foot into the camp. Something had seemed off about how he was sulk about and then disappear. Logan followed him one night and saw him with Milton and Ross and was immediately enraged. He spoke with Dutch and it led to the man putting a bullet through Micah’s skull.

They all celebrated that night.

Logan was also the first to notice Arthur’s illness and offered to change him. He gave Arthur time to think it over and in the end, he accepted. It took some time for him to adjust to the changes that he was going through, but with Logan’s help he got through it.

It wasn’t long after joining camp that Logan and Sadie shared their first kiss. The attraction between them was almost suffocating and when they finally acted on it, it was heaven. Sadie also asked to changed. This took Logan sometime to consider, but he finally did, and they were soon mated.

The camp had become family to Logan. They were willing to become wolves after seeing Arthur and Sadie go through it. Logan was the alpha, with Hosea, Dutch and Arthur as his Betas. He finally had a pack again.

Years down the line, the Pinkertons had given up their search for the van der linde gang. They were freed from the previous life they knew. Some chose to become ranchers, like John, Abigail and Jack. Arthur would stay with them and his mate, Freya. Who he had saved from some gang out in the grizzles one winter. Some wanted families of their own and would go looking for their mate. Logan remembered when Tilly came back with a man that she was head over heels for and when the man wasn’t scared of what they were, Logan knew that he would change him for Tilly.

Sadie had given birth to twin boys, Noah and Henry. They were adventurous and brave like their father but compassionate and loving like their mother.

Logan was happy that he had followed Sadie’s scent that day years ago. He had finally gotten the family that he had always longed for. Things were finally okay again for the lone Alpha.


	4. Take Me Home - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a misunderstanding that leads to an argument, Arthur faces the horror of losing the woman he loves.

Three days.

That was all it took for everything to go to shit.

Freya hadn’t returned to camp for three days. Her horse and herself were gone. Her tent and belongings were untouched. Left the way that she had ignored everything and everyone as her world was crumpling in front of her when she ran.

Hosea had told everyone to leave her be. To let her grieve. The older man had only seen this happen once before in the time he had known Freya. The day after she lost her mother and he and Dutch had found her in the cabin in the middle of the desert. The heart shattering cries as the young girl held onto the still warm corpse of her deceased mother.

But this was a new type of loss. The cause of it was sat across of camp as the old man stood on watch for the return of Freya. The cause being the man sulking in his tent.

**Arthur.**

Hosea hadn’t been present when the fight started. But he was there for the end of it.

_“You didn’t have to do anything!” Freya had screamed in Arthur’s face. Throwing down the book that she had been reading as she stood. “Any moment she comes crawling back it’s as though she never left!”_

_“What was I supposed to do?!” Arthur had shouted back. Anger getting the better of him, his damned pride getting in his way of seeing how upset she was._

_“You were supposed to chose me!” Freya cried. Freya pushed Arthur. Started beating her hands on his chest. The man had taken every hit she gave. “I should’ve been enough!”_

Not long after, Freya ran. She took off on her horse as the rest of camp stood bewildered at the scene that had played out in front of them. Arthur retreated to his own tent; shoving passed Dutch who had tried to approach him.

A day passed and Hosea knew it would be many more before he saw the young woman return – if she did at all. A day of Arthur sitting at the campfire drinking bottle after bottle as he grumbled to himself; making both Swanson and Uncle look sane. Hosea had to help the younger man to his tent that night as he swayed and staggered. Hosea put him to bed as Arthur began to cry.

“Why do I keep fucking it up?” He remembered Arthur asking.

“You’re as dumb as you look.” Hosea had responded before leaving him for the night and retiring to his own tent.

Day two saw Arthur leaving the camp to go hunting. Hosea wasn’t sure whether he would bring back a dead animal or Freya on the back of his horse. But it was only a deer and two rabbits that joined Arthur on his horse when he returned. Arthur returned to his tent and during the night, Hosea could hear the man cry.

The third was how Hosea saw him now. Silently writing in that journal of his, sulking. Hosea shook his head at the sight. He couldn’t remember if Arthur were meant to be in his thirties or a young felon once again. For he had stolen the heart of Freya and torn it to shreds.

Freya spent those three days in a makeshift camp some place in the woods near a lake. She hadn’t paid much attention to where she had wandered to. All she knew was that she needed to stay away for a while, let herself grieve this loss and move on.

She stared tirelessly into the flames of the small fire near her tent. Her horse was hitched to a tree not far from her and the remains of her small meal was left next to Freya’s legs. She knew she had to return at some point, there were too many responsibilities to just leave behind. But for now she would stare aimlessly into the fire as though it would give her the reality she wanted to be apart of.

A fourth day came and it saw Arthur getting angsty to leave camp and find Freya.

“She could be hurt.” Arthur had protested to Hosea as the elder man stood between him and his horse.

“She is a smart girl. She knows how to stay safe.” Hosea declared as he crossed his arms. “Last thing she needs is you storming up to her.” He scolded Arthur.

Arthur knew he was right. So he went back to his tent. He waited and waited all day.

Then came the shock cry from Abigail. “Freya!”

Arthur rushed to his feet and out of his tent to sound. The sight he were greeted by was Freya’s horse carrying a bloody and wounded Freya as she lay against the horse’s neck. Her clothing torn and covered in dirt and blood. Blackened right eye and bleeding right cheek. Hosea and Arthur rushed to get her down from the horse.

Freya cried and whimpered as Arthur pulled her down into his arms, cradling her to himself as he looked her over. Her eyes closed and her lips parted as shallow breaths were sucked in and shook out once more.

“Get her to her tent.” Hosea demanded. Arthur didn’t waste a second. Laying her on her cot and helping Hosea as they waited for Susan.

“She’s been shot in her shoulder and by the looks of it, it’s still in there.” Hosea observed as he cut the remaining of her shirt off her shoulder. Hosea looked to Arthur as the man fretted over her. Arthur looked at Hosea and they shared a brief look before Susan came and shooed Arthur away. She closed the flaps to the tent to keep prying eyes from staring in. Arthur stood frozen staring at the tent. The only thought going through his head:

**He could lose her completely.**

The camp was silent. Each member stayed clear of Freya’s tent as Susan and Hosea took care of the young woman. Arthur stayed close. Refusing to move and refusing to be apart from Freya more than he already were. When Freya screamed, Arthur flinched and curled his fists. More time passed and more groans and cries came from the tent.

When Susan emerged from the tent, Arthur was swift to her side.

“She’s breathing. She needs to rest, Mr Morgan.” She told him and patted her bloodied hand on his shoulder. Arthur plead with his eyes; afraid his words would only throw him into the depths without chance of survival. Susan sighed and gestured her head to the tent, giving him on last glance before striding away.

Arthur hesitated. He knew he needed to be with Freya. But part of him told him that she didn’t need him. But the part that wanted to be beside her anchored him down to where he stood. He needed only to lift his hand and pull the flap to the side and enter the tent.

Hosea emerged before he could. The older man stared at Arthur with sorrow filling his tired eyes. Arthur couldn’t find words to begin uttering an apology before Hosea spoke.

“You better make this up to her. I won’t lose a daughter because of stupidity.”

Hosea walked away across camp to his own tent. Heart heavy and mind full. Only time would give him answers to what was to come.

Morning came and the camp arose as normal. Freya’s tent was still closed off from the rest of the members. Hosea made his way to her tent with some mixture he had made from herbs that he learnt were great at easing pain in the joints. He pulled the flap aside and halted in his movements at the sight that welcomed him.

Freya asleep and her face turned towards a sleeping Arthur, who had made residence on the ground next to her. His hat lay on the ground beside him and his jacket covered Freya’s midsection. Freya’s hand resting on top of the mustard coloured leather.

Hosea felt as though he had interrupted an intimate moment between the pair, so he slowly left after leaving the herbs beside the pair. He hoped Arthur would understand why they were there.

More hours passed before Arthur awoke with a small snort. He rubbed his eyes and looked at Freya to see her still sleeping. Arthur groans as his back pops when he stretches, but he turns when his hand touches the small jar that was now beside his head on the table. He realised that Hosea had been by and left the jar as he recognised it from the time he had suffered a bullet wound to the arm and Hosea had given him a similar concoction to help heal his wound.

Arthur gently moved the wrappings from Freya’s shoulder and applied the mixture to the area around the wound. He frowned at the stitching that was the handy work of Susan and how this could have all been prevented if it weren’t for himself. He wraps Freya’s shoulder back up and sit on the side of her cot. The back of his hand gently touching her cheek, his knuckles stroking her pale skin. Freya turned into his hand as her eye lashes twitched and began to open.

“You’re okay, darlin’.” Arthur soothed as Freya stirred and awoke.

Freya felt awful. Her throat dry, her blood pounding in her ears and a numbing ache in her shoulder. She saw the silhouette in the morning light. Smelt the familiar smoke and whiskey that accompanied the man she knew.

“Arthur.” She croaked as she blinked again and again to help regain her sight. Arthur shifted slightly to reach for her hand, enclosing it in his own.

“I’m here. You’re gonna be alright, darlin’.” Arthur assured her as his thumb stroked the back of her hand.

“Take me home.” Freya muttered. Still delirious, she closed her eyes again and returned to unconsciousness. Arthur sat holding her hand the entire time.

The next time Freya was conscious, she tried to move and leave the bed. Arthur got her to lay back down, only after promising to get her some food and something to drink. Leaving her briefly, Freya was alone with her thoughts once more.

She had been shot by someone trying to rob her. She was quick to return her own fire; thankfully, she hadn’t taken her revolver from her horse’s saddle. Now she lay in her tent. Safe. A hole slowly healing in her shoulder, but she was okay. She was alive.

Alive but still mad at the man who came back into her tent.

“Pearson just made a soup and got you some water.” Arthur spoke as he sat on the edge on her cot. Freya didn’t say anything in return, just glared. Arthur sighed as he put the bowl and mug on the table beside them.

“As pissed as you may be at me, don’t let yourself suffer.” He plead to Freya.

Freya once again said nothing. She grunted as she sat up, glaring at Arthur’s hand when he went to help but quickly retreated at her scowl. Arthur picked the mug back up and proceeded to help Freya as she sipped at the water. The dryness in her throat washing down and giving her room to breathe properly again. Arthur reached for the soup.

“I never was good enough, was I?” Freya spoke. Arthur lowered the soup to his lap as he stared down at it. Freya bore holes in the side of his head as he scrambled for words to leave his mouth. An apology. The truth of why he went to see Mary. But all he could do was stare at the soup.

“I can’t replace her. It’s always going to be her.” Freya sounded defeated. Her voice broken and tears brimming her eyes as she stared at the man she loved. The man who won’t ever look at her the same way. Freya looked away from Arthur as he sat in silence, using her good hand to wipe at the tears that fell down her cheeks. Now he couldn’t even speak to her.

“It was never her.” Arthur says.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me hope.” Freya begs as she turns back to Arthur, who now was looking directly at her. “Don’t give me something I can’t have.” Freya hiccups and lowers her head. Tears now streaming freely down her face.

Arthur puts the soup back on the table. His hands restless on his knees, picking at the loose bits of thread as he opens and closes his mouth. Wanting the right words to come.

“I was never good enough for you.” Arthur admits. “I’m a damned fool for thinking I could ever give you anything outside this life.” He reaches her hand under Freya’s chin and lifts her head. Her eyes puffy from her tears and cheeks flushed from the horrid feeling she had.

“But I’ll be damned if I don’t give you everything you want.” Arthur chokes on the last word. His own tears brimming his eyes.

“Then why did you go to her?” Freya questions.

“To end it. To finally let that thread loose.” Arthur replies, his hand lowering from her face. “I went to tell I won’t be there whenever she cries. I’m not her puppet.”

Freya hiccups on her tears, her own hand reaching for Arthurs.

“I can’t let you go.” Arthur was now the one to sound defeated. “Without telling you that I love you, darlin’. And I’ll do anything for you to forgive me.” Arthur leans forward and rests his forehead against Freya’s. His eyes closing as his own tears fall.

Nightfall came when Hosea went to check on Freya again. Arthur hadn’t left her side besides to get her food and water. When he entered the tent, Arthur was listening as Freya read Frankenstein – the book that Arthur had given her a month or two after she joined. They sat together, Freya leaning on Arthur as Arthur’s chin rested on top of Freya’s head.

“Don’t mind me.” Hosea clears his throat. Freya jolts and moans, grabbing onto her shoulder. Arthur quickly to her aid.

“Jesus old man, you’re going to be the death of me.” Freya groans as she gets comfortable again.

“I think it’ll be the other way round. Gave me quite the scare seeing you come back like that.” Hosea says as he crosses his arms on his chest.

“Yeah, you should see the other guy.” Freya jokes. Arthur huffs from beside her and rolls his eyes. Hosea smiles at the calm sight of the pair.

“I see wounds are being healed.” Hosea grins. Arthur glances at Freya as she reaches to her shoulder. Arthur knew the meaning behind his words, so did Freya.

“If you don’t go scaring me half to the grave, it will be.” But Freya couldn’t help but joke.


	5. Noble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There he stood now. In his blue tunic with a belt bringing it tightly into his waist. His black trousers that were covered at the shin by his boots. The kingdom’s crest resting on his chest on his chest on a silver chain. The tight lipped smile as he listened to his friends celebrate. The solemn hold his eyes held whenever he glanced her way. The tightness in his jaw as the King kissed his Queen. The betrayal in his heart as he watched the woman he loved share her first dance with another man.
> 
> Okay so this one shot is a little different. For one our loveable cowboy is now a knight under the rule of two kings. I was inspired by art work on tumblr then low and behold this become a thing.

The Queen stared out over those who celebrated on behalf of herself and her newly wedded husband. She was surrounded by noblemen and soldiers; all were deemed the King’s inner circle. Her parents were in attendance – proud that their daughter would rule a kingdom alongside the King. But not even their presence could settle the fire in her heart.

She looked to the dark haired man to her left. This man she had agreed to marry. A man that could offer her all the riches of the land and would give her anything she needed. But it wasn’t the man who caused the butterflies in her stomach. He wasn’t the man who made her heart race with just a glance. For it was the man whom the King called friend.

The man with the shoulder length sandy hair that she ran her fingers through as they sat in the gardens as she would read to him. The blue sapphires that searched for her when he returned from battle. The lips that had sighed her name as they sealed their love and affections in her chambers at night.

There he stood now. In his blue tunic with a belt bringing it tightly into his waist. His black trousers that were covered at the shin by his boots. The kingdom’s crest resting on his chest on his chest on a silver chain. The tight lipped smile as he listened to his friends celebrate. The solemn hold his eyes held whenever he glanced her way. The tightness in his jaw as the King kissed his Queen. The betrayal in his heart as he watched the woman he loved share her first dance with another man.

Arthur.

The man she had fallen in love with. The man who swept her off her feet from the moment she entered the castle. But the love she was not made to have. Her parents arranging for her to be married to the King, yet she found love on her own to another man.

Oh to return to the days she were still free. To the days she would smile at the man she loved as he approached her. When she would allow the flush of her cheeks to be seen by him and his words of admiration. There, where her affections were meant for him as he returned once again with another victory of battle.

But now it was too late.

The Queen excused herself from the King with a kiss to his stubbled cheek before she fled down the halls. Needing silence from the chorus of other’s enjoyment to sink into the meadow of her despair.

She felt weak.

Her life was being stolen by others and she wasn’t allowed to have a say. There was no one at her defence, not even her own family protected her.

“Not so fast, little bird.” Her arm was pulled, which in turn twisted her to the man holding her.

He was here.

He had seen the tears that bristled in her eyes. The way that the King had kept a possessive hand on her throughout their appearances together. The life leaving the woman he loved, as the King paraded her around as though she were a trophy.

He hated it all.

He hated the man he called friend..

“Arthur, if he were to see this-“ Her words are stolen by her gasp as Arthur releases her arm but cages her between his own arms and the stone wall behind her. His head dipped down slightly as he brought himself closer to her. A wall that shielded her from other’s view if they strolled the dimly lit hall.

“I’ll keep your secrets, but you’ll tell me.” Arthur’s breath was warm against her face as he spoke. “Are you here by choice? Is he the man you want?”

The Queen was stunned into silence. She couldn’t help but think about the last time they were this close. Her hands had been holding onto his shoulders as she bit her lip to quieten the whines in her throat as Arthur had ravished her. Her heart was pounding and her cheeks flushed as she remembered the lude curses Arthur had groaned in her ear. Even now her hand subconsciously reaches to touch his bearded cheek as her eyes search his own.

“I see the answer in your eyes and perched there on your lips,” Arthur’s thumb traces her bottom lip as his eyes move to her mouth. “And yet the words won’t come.”

She knew what she wanted, knew who she would always choose. _You_ , she wanted to say. Wanted to scream in front of all those celebrating to her misery how she loved this man.

The man she had met in the castle walls by accident. The man that she wanted to run away with – escape this nightmare and never look back.

Her Arthur.

“Let me make it easy for you, then.” Arthur spoke. He took her hand from his face, pining it to the wall beside her head. “I’ll take them from your mouth with mine own.” Then he sealed his words with a kiss.

The kiss was slow and passionate but they clung to one another. The Queen moaned into Arthur’s mouth as Arthur held her against him. Her free hand reached up and tangled itself into his hair. Arthur groaned as his tongue slid against hers. Their hands against the wall tightening their grips. They craved this. The need to be together, to bring forth all the desperation they had. The feeling of being whole whenever the other held them.

But they didn’t take notice of the man who saw them as he slithered his way back to the King.


End file.
